


There were more amazing prospects on the ground floor

by icecreamsuki



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:56:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2302310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icecreamsuki/pseuds/icecreamsuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the way to an elevator ride, Ohno was complimented, which left him wondering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There were more amazing prospects on the ground floor

He was not used to dressing up. It was, for him, an extraordinary feat that he would like to leave to models and fashion icons - an entirely different league from his own. 

He had two rules when it came to his outfits: comfort and convenience, which was why his favorite was a pair of comfortable shirt and jeans. He dressed up nicely only once, and by nicely, it meant something smart and decent. It was a favor for his sister on her wedding day. And even being in the special position of a sister still took quite a lot of charming and pleading on her part for him to give in. 

That morning, however, there was a nagging voice on his head that was playing on repeat, "Please, just this once, please dress well." It was an order from his boss for Ohno to meet a very important client on his behalf. The phrase ‘a very important client’ was reiterated countless times he could almost mimic his boss’ expression and tone when he said it, though of course he wouldn’t display his imitation act with the boss in sight lest he be apprehended.

He was a divorce lawyer’s assistant. He had seen and heard a variety of nasty stuff uttered and done by husbands and wives, and even third parties at that. All the anger, scorn and hurt was quite emotionally draining even for a professional like him, despite still being in the early years of his training. 

Luckily, he was eventually learning the art of spacing out as couples bicker here and there, and only really started intervening when the two already started throwing things at each other - things that belonged to his work space like the sculptures that he meticulously crafted to infuse some personality into his office. 

It was not a happy sight. The fact that he was headed to ‘a very important client’ who was about to get divorced left him with a weary air hanging over him. In his dictionary, ‘a very important client’ can be translated to ‘impossibly demanding, damn it! Push some sense into this guy’s head and get me out of here!’ Add the inescapable fact that he was wearing a stuffy suit with a necktie that took him half an hour of agony to figure out, he was in a foul grumpy mood – that kind that no one dared approach. 

Holding a slip of paper with a written address, he found out that his client was living in a posh condominium. He felt fake in his suit along with the fake classy lives these people were living. He regretted not wearing his usual simple outfit to slap into these people’s faces that not everything is about the material things one possessed. Standing in front of the elevator doors waiting for it to reach the ground floor, he mindlessly stared at his shoes – sneakers, as if an act of defiance after being forced to wear a formal suit. He was never keen on conformity. 

"You look very attractive." It was a vague pronouncement from afar as if overhearing someone complimenting someone else. It was none of his concern – just the product of coexisting with other human beings in the same cramped space such as a posh condominium’s lobby. Besides, it must be the custom in the upper class of society to throw fake compliments at each other to be polite. He looked up; two more floors until it reached the ground. 

He was glad he was alone in the elevator. He didn’t want to deal with having to hear the conversations of people about the jewelry they bought or the foreign places they travelled to. He pressed the number 17, eager to finish the job at the earliest possible time and leave. The place was stuffier than his slovenly apartment, he thought.

Just as the doors were about to close, a hand was suddenly resting on one side of the door.

"You look very attractive." He heard it again, this time clearer and more personal, as if stressing that the space between them was an indication that the words were actually, truthfully, directed to him. 

Ohno slightly looked up, his eyes resting on the ragged name plate worn against a faded uniform. He looked at the intruder’s eyes searchingly, harnessing the lawyer in him as if the guy before him was the mistress of the accused. 

A waver. He waited for a waver in the smile, for a shift in the crinkle of the eyes, for a faint upturn of the nose, some sign of mockery or jest – anything that would clinch the make or break question that this guy was simply making fun of him - yet there was none.

There was nothing but sincerity and confidence in the way the guy carried himself, and Ohno almost felt small in his presence, yet at the same time feeling protected and secure. He kept his head down as if receiving a compliment was worth an apology, standing still, waiting for the stranger to leave him in peace. 

As the hand blocking the door rested and the doors smoothly closed, Ohno looked up and saw his face reflected on the shiny metal of the elevator door as it brought him up. He found himself positively beaming. 

With someone's name on his lips – someone who was not quite a stranger anymore, - he walked through the halls of seventeenth floor, keen on finishing the interview soon, knowing that there were more amazing prospects at the ground floor. 

‘Ninomiya Kazunari, huh?’ he mumbled as he stood in front of room 6 of the seventeenth floor. He knocked. Looking at his watch, it indicated 8 A.M.

‘I was given a lunch break, right?’ Ohno thought. He was required to return only after lunch. He had enough time. 

Before the very important client opened the door, his last thought was, ‘Do condominium receptionists have lunch breaks too?’


End file.
